“I must see her and speak to her to-day, dear, good Mary, only this once!” And before she could prevent it he had kissed her forehead and had flown into the house to Selene. The little hunchback did not know what had happened to her; confused and almost paralyzed by conflicting feelings she stood shame-faced, gazing at the ground. She felt that something quite extraordinary had happened to her, but this wonderful something radiated a dazzling splendor, and since this had risen for her, for poor Mary, a feeling of pride quite new to her mingled with the shame and indignation that filled her soul. She needed a few minutes to collect herself and to recover a sense of her duty, and those few minutes were made good use of by Antinous. He flew with long steps into the room in which, on that never-to-be-forgotten night, he had laid Selene on the couch, and even at the threshold he called her by her name. She started and laid aside the book out of which she was reading to her blind brother. He called a second time, beseechingly. Selene recognized him and asked calmly: “Do you want me, or dame Hannah?” “You, you!” he cried passionately. “Oh Selene, I pulled you out of the water, and since that night I have never ceased to think of you and I must die for love of you. Have your thoughts never, never met mine on the way to you? Are you still and always as cold, as passive as you were then when you belonged half to life and half to death? For months have I prowled round this house as the shade of a dead man haunts the spot where he had left all that was dear to him on earth, and I have never been able to tell you what I feel for you?” As he spoke the lad fell on the ground before her and tried to clasp her knees; but she said reproachfully: “What does all this mean? Stand up and compose yourself.” “Oh! let me, let me--” he besought her. “Do not be so cold and so hard; have pity on me and do not reject me!” “Stand up,” repeated the girl. “I will certainly not reproach you--I owe you thanks on the contrary.” “Not thanks, but love--a little love is all I ask.” “I try to love all men,” replied the girl, “and so I love you because you have shown me very much kindness.” “Selene, Selene!” he exclaimed in joyful triumph. He threw himself again at her feet and passionately seized her right hand; but hardly had he taken it in his own when Mary, scarlet with agitation, rushed into the room. In a husky voice, full of hatred and fury, she commanded him to leave the house at once, and when he attempted again to besiege her ear with entreaties she cried out: “If you do not obey I will call the men in to help us, who are out there attending to the flowers. I ask you, will you obey or will you not?” “Why are you so cruel, Mary?” asked the blind boy. “This man is good and kind and tells Selene he loves her.” Antinous pointed to the child with an imploring gesture but Mary was already by the window and was raising her hand to her mouth to make her call heard.